I've Got You Under My Skin
by Philyra
Summary: AU. They drove each other crazy, on and off the dance floor. But maybe crazy is just another word for love. IkkaKiyo. Part seven of the Strictly Ballroom series.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. The bleach I own keeps my whites white...

* * *

Mornings and afternoons at the 8/13 Dance Studio were usually quite uneventful. Music drifted from the various studios as its principal dancers trained or conducted private lessons, as the big classes were usually held at night or on the weekends. But for a year now, everyone knew that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 10:00-3:00, Studio 2 was a designated war zone.

"You clumsy _oaf! _Stop stepping on my feet!"

"Baka onna, if ya'd count right, we wouldn't have to worry about yer damn feet!"

"How dare you! At least I know how to count!"

"Up to five maybe." At her uncomprehending look, he snorted. "First through fifth position, miss prima ballerina."

"Technically, there are _seven _positions. Serge Lifar-"

"Ooooh, big deal. Ya can count up two whole numbers."

"Shut _up!_"

Only the extremely brave or extremely suicidal chose to brave the atmosphere of Studio 2 when Kotetsu Kiyone and Madarame Ikkaku were practicing. But for Unohana Retsu, teaching those two was a matter of belief. She _knew _they could be a great couple, if only they got over their differences and just focused on the dance. When they hit their stride they were amazing. Kiyone was light on her feet like no one else because of her ballet experience and Ikkaku was one of the strongest men in the studio. When they danced, it was as though they were flying across the dance floor.

"_Stop_." Her voice never rose about its normal well-modulated tone, but she hadn't had any reason to raise it in the last few years. As it was, that frosty, controlled tone was just as effective as any bellow.

Ikkaku and Kiyone stopped immediately. "I'm growing tired of this bickering," Unohana said softly. "Do I have to resort to gagging you two during practice like unruly teenagers?" The two knew better than to answer. "How do I explain this?" she sighed. "Instead of looking like two lovers meeting in a meadow, you're like henchmenfrom rival yakuza clans trying to settle a score." She paced around them, ignoring Ikkaku's snort in regard to her metaphor and Kiyone's horrified expression at the thought of it. "I don't want to see you two fighting anymore – if you want that kind of feeling, save it for the tango. The Viennese waltz is about _love_."

Ikkaku shifted uncomfortably. He was a grown man and yet somehow she made him feel like a little boy who deserved a spanking. Kiyone was staring at her feet, ashamed.

"_No more fighting_," Unohana said firmly. "At least in the studio. What you do outside of it is none of my concern. But you will get along." She sighed again. "Practice is over for the day. I'm tired and disappointed." She turned on her heel and left the room.

Kiyone bit her lip. Gods, she felt so incredibly guilty. Here she was wasting time when she had one of the best ballroom dancers in the world as her teacher. How stupid could she be? If there was anything she hated, it was feeling guilty and stupid. And when she felt guilty and stupid, she lashed out. "This is your fault," she muttered to Ikkaku.

The bald man scowled and just barely stopped himself from retorting. After all, he thought, grinning inwardly, wouldn't it just irritate the hell out of her if _he _acted like the bigger person? "If ya want me to take the bait, onna, I ain't. Way I see it, if Unohana-sensei wants us t'stop fightin', we better try not fightin'. _All_ the time." He walked over to her, a hand extended. "Truce?"

Kiyone looked at his hand suspiciously. "You're trying to make me feel bad, aren't you?" Her snort was disgruntled and unladylike. "News flash: I already feel bad."

"So, whaddya gonna do about it?" He raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge.

"What am I, stupid? Don't answer that," she ordered as he opened his mouth. "What the hell do you think I'm going to do?" She shook his hand. "Satisfied?"

"Yep." But he couldn't resist a parting jab to his partner. It was just so damned _fun _to see her get riled up. He snagged her wrist and pulled her close. "Let's meet in the meadow, lover."

She elbowed him in the gut, mistaking the automatic tightening of her stomach muscles as annoyance. "Come on. Let's get to work."

* * *

"How do _I _get into character for the Viennese waltz?" Matsumoto Rangiku repeated. Her icy blue eyes glazed over. "I think of Toushiro, of course. I just stare into his eyes and get lost in them. And yes, I realize that it sounds ridiculous, but…" She shrugged. "It works."

Kiyone had to give her that. Hitsugaya Toushiro had the most beautiful eyes on the planet. "What about you, Nemu-chan?"

"You just have to trust the emotion and give in to it," the older woman mused.

"Renji helped," Matsumoto laughed.

She blushed. "He did."

"What they're trying to say, Kiyone-chan, is that you have to truly be in love." At the younger woman's dismayed look, Nanao hurried on. "You can't fake love. Even if you're not in love with the person you're dancing with you still need to channel emotion that's real, otherwise it won't work."

"Haven't you been in love, Kiyone-chan?" Matsumoto asked.

She turned dull red as the women looked at her expectantly, especially her sister. "No, not really," she admitted.

"What?" Matsumoto exclaimed. "You're 21 years old and you've never been in love? Not even a little bit?"

"Kiyone, you were always surrounded by boys!" Kotetsu Isane added. "Were you never interested in one of them?"

"No!" Gods, it was so embarrassing. For years, her whole life had been ballet. How could she have focused on anything else? "The only guys I hung out with enough were the guys from the ballet studio. Most of them were gay and the rest were so egotistical it was a miracle their heads didn't explode."

"Never?" Isane asked doubtfully.

"Never." Of that, she was absolutely certain. Sure, she'd had fleeting crushes here and there – even one on Ukitake-san when she first came to the studio – but love?

"Kiyone…" Her sister's golden eyes were soft and compassionate.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that look, onee-san. The world will not come to an end just because I've never been in love."

"Give your sister a break – _she's_ in love!" Matsumoto said. "Believe me, when you're in the first stages, you want the whole world to be in love, too." Her eyes sparkled. "I know! Let's set you up with someone!"

"Oh, just _stop_," she said in disgust as the other women exclaimed. "You guys need to leave me and my nonexistent love life alone. _It doesn't matter_. All I want to know is how to dance a decent waltz!"

Nanao put her arm around her. "Of course. We're sorry, Kiyone-chan. But really, we've given you all the advice we can."

"Ugh," she moaned. "It might be easier to just fall in love with that blockhead."

"Now _that's _an idea – I mean, no, it's a horrible idea." Matsumoto backpedaled rapidly as the younger woman sent her a killing glare.

* * *

Unohana stared at her pupils as they finished their routine. "Hmmm." She flicked her black braid over her shoulder. "Technically, I must say that the dance is perfect, but I am still lacking emotion from you two. You must remember that you'll be performing in the group waltz at Shunsui-san and Nanao-san's wedding – which is in two weeks, by the way – and the way you dance now, you're sure to stick out."

"Even with Soi Fong partnerin' with Yumichika?" Ikakku snorted under his breath.

"_Even_ with that. They have years of competitive ballroom experience and they know how to act. You two, however…." She shook her head. "I'm at a loss." She turned to the man leaning against the wall. "Yumichika-kun?"

Ayasegawa Yumichika fluttered his eyelashes. "How kind of you to ask, Unohana-sensei!" he simpered. His best friend's earlier comment seemed to have flown over his head, but then, Yumichika had a tendency to ignore most of the things Ikkaku said. "If I may, could I have them dance it again? I judge better while I'm watching."

Unohana smiled. "Do as you like, Yumichika-kun."

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "Better prepare yerself," he muttered to Kiyone.

"Ikkaku, hold her _closer_!"

"Kiyone-chan, don't make that face. It's not beautiful at all."

"_Reach _for her, Ikkaku!"

"Kiyone-chan, _your face!_"

"_Closer, _Ikkaku!"

"_Face!_"

Kiyone stopped abruptly. "_What_?" she demanded. "What is wrong with my face, Yumichika-kun?"

"Oh my dear, there is nothing wrong with your with your face, it's beautiful." Yumichika waved an airy hand. "It's your _expression_. You look as though you're having your teeth pulled! Be soft. Be gentle. Stop looking like you want to kill him." Ikkaku grinned triumphantly at her. "The same for you, Ikkaku! You have a beautiful woman in your arms! _Enjoy _it!" He threw up his hands in despair when the two looked askance at each other. "Kiyone-chan, think Odette instead of Odile. Perhaps that will help?"

"Very good, Yumichika-kun, I hadn't thought of that," Unohana said. "Yes, Kiyone-chan, try using your ballet experience to channel your emotions." She checked her watch. "We'll stop for today. I'm proud of your progress." She left with Ikkaku and Yumichika following close behind her as they argued.

"Ikkaku, what if you think about-"

"I don't need yer goddamn help, Yumi!"

Kiyone remained in the studio, her hands on her hips. She hadn't really thought about ballet in the year since she'd made the switch over to ballroom. She considered that chapter of her life over – but as she looked at herself in the mirror, already unconsciously in first position, she realized that once a ballerina, always a ballerina. Even if she felt like she'd outgrown it.

Slowly, hesitantly, she walked over to her gym bag. There in the front pocket was a worn pair of toe shoes. In one year she'd never worn them but she still kept them there. She took off her ballroom heels and slowly began to lace them up, her fingers gliding over the satin ribbons she'd so lovingly sewed into the shoes just the way she liked. It was like that with every pair of toe shoes, no matter how quickly she'd gone through them. She stood _en pointe _and winced. Her feet had gotten slightly weaker.

Though 8/13 was a ballroom studio, there was a _barre _in every studio to aid with stretching. She took her place and began her exercises. Two _pliés. _One _demi-plié_ then a _grand plié. Cambré. Grand plié. Rélevé_. She did them all in first, second, fourth, and fifth positions before repeating them all on her left side. Muscles long disused (at least like this) came awake, protesting slightly, but her body remembered the movements. Her turnout was still good: her posture, perfect.

She'd forgotten how calming it was. When she danced, her mind simply cleared and there was nothing else. Soon, she moved away from the _barre _and began a simple floor routine. Her hair flicked into her eyes and she cursed. When she switched to ballroom, she chopped off her long hair as a symbol of her transition. Now her bangs were hanging in her eyes. She grabbed a headband from her bag and took off her flowing ballroom skirt, leaving her in just a leotard and tights.

Oh yes, she'd missed this, Kiyone thought as she began again. There was no set routine in her head; she just wanted to dance again. Fifth position, _tendue devant_, arms in a low _allongé, _then a _battement tendu, _arms still low. Every movement was controlled and precise with her feet, arms, and hands moving only as much as they needed to. That was why she liked Standard – it echoed everything she was taught.

_Grand rond de jambe en l'air _– she drew her right leg out to the side, her thigh parallel to the floor while her foot turned in the air – slowly, she drew it _en arrière_, behind her. _Passé_, with her leg _enface devant_ to an _enface derrière tendue_. _Croisé tendue _with a _plié _on the right leg.

Ikkaku stopped in the doorway, glowering. Though he ignored Yumichika most of the time, when his annoyingly feminine best friend wanted him to do something, he usually ended up doing it. Yumi wanted him to talk to her about their dancing, whatever the hell that meant. Personally, he thought they were doing a lot better than they were a few weeks ago, but he came up anyway. He leaned against the doorjamb, amused that she hadn't noticed him yet. Usually, she had some sort of radar that picked him up within a thirty-foot radius. Her hackles would go up immediately, priming her for the fight.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy arguing with her. Fighting, both physical and vocal, was one of the things Ikkaku did best, and fighting with Kiyone was fun. When she was mad, she looked like an angry fairy, which was rather cute, if he was capable of considering anything cute. His first instinct upon seeing her dance was to make a scathing comment, but as she danced, his intentions flew out the window. There was something about the grace and precision in her movements that held him transfixed.

Ikkaku was a man's man; there was no doubt about it. Even when he was ballroom dancing, no one could say that he was a pansy. He would have beat them into the ground if they did. But he'd be _damned _if the sight of her dancing didn't take his breath away. When she leapt into the air, it was as though she was defying gravity. A part of him knew that; he danced with her, after all. But not like that. He'd never seen that emotion on her face, the sheer exhilaration and joy. Her dancing was like her – athletic, exuberant, and passionate, not cool and classic like the ballerinas he saw the one time he lost a bet to Yumichika and was dragged to the ballet. What would it be like, he wondered, if their ballroom dancing looked like her ballet dancing?

_Bourrée left, bourrée right. Plié _into a double _pirouette en dedans_. Her moves got more and more complex as she danced on. Moves that she'd performed over and over were so ingrained into her body that she only had to think of a move to perform it. _Chasse _on back diagonal into a _grand jeté en tournant._ _Entrechat quarte. Balloné avant. Petit jeté en attitude. _On and on she went until she decided to try every ballerina's _bravura _step: the _grand fouetté en tournant. _With a _passé _into a fourth position prep, she began.

The _fouetté en tournant _was the hallmark of a ballerina's ability. It required strength, balance, and perfect technique. They were required of every ballerina, and the famous 32 _fouettés en tournant _that had first appeared in the coda of the _grand pas d'action _of _Cinderella_ now appeared in most ballets. She had done them once before and wanted to see if she could do them again. She counted them in her head. _14, 15, 16, 17_…she felt her center shift and stepped out into fourth position with a flourish. There was a brief moment of exultation and then the pain hit her.

She tumbled gracelessly to the floor. "_Shit_," she swore eloquently. She should have known better than to perform such a difficult move after a long absence. She reached for the ribbons of her shoes-

-but was beaten by a pair of large, heavily callused hands. "Cramps?" Ikkaku inquired.

"Y-yeah." She could only watch in amazement as he carefully untied her toe shoes, slipped them off, and began rubbing her agonized toes. It was all she could do not to melt into a giant puddle.

"Ya've got a lotta tension," he observed. "Nice routine, but it's hell on yer feet." He skipped over the blisters that were beginning to form.

Kiyone only mumbled incoherently, not even caring that it was _Ikkaku_.

"Ya dance good." He kept his eyes on his hands. "What're ya doin' here?"

She stiffened. "If you're saying that I'm not good enough to be here-"

"Dammit, will ya stop takin' everythin' I say the wrong way?" he demanded. "I'm just sayin' that ya look good doin' ballet'n'it makes ya happy. So what're ya doin' here?"

She was taken aback. He actually seemed sincere. "Ballet's too proper for me," she said finally. "Dancing in _Don Quixote _or _The Firebird _isn't enough. I need something that suits _me_. Ballroom's it, it's that simple."

"And ballet?"

"I'll always love it." She shrugged and closed her eyes. "I've known nothing but ballet for most of my life. But it's not what I want to be doing right now, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Ikkaku nodded, his hands moving up to massage the muscles of her calves. The stab of pleasure was so sharp and sweet that Kiyone couldn't help the tiny moan that escaped her lips. She opened her eyes to find his black gaze on hers.

She was so used to seeing anger there, but now there was something else, something just as strong, maybe, but far more volatile. Suddenly, she realized she was holding her breath – in anticipation?

But then he was on his feet and the moment gone. "Soak yer feet and get 'em wrapped," he commanded. "I'll see ya." Then he tore out of there like a fire was lit under his ass, leaving Kiyone on the floor, confused.

* * *

Ikkaku braced his hands against the tiled walls and let the spray of the water beat over him. He had to have imagined that surge of desire. How many times had he danced with her and held her in his arms without ever feeling something other than supreme dislike? But her skin under his hands had been so soft and the _sound _she made was-

He cursed, slamming his palm against the wall. He had absolutely no right to be thinking about her that way. For Christ's sake, he thought, she was eleven years his junior. She was _twenty-one_, just barely out of childhood, in his opinion. When he was that age, he'd been far older in terms of experience and he'd only gotten older. Living on the wrong side of the tracks did that.

It wasn't that Ikkaku was ashamed of where he came from – he liked to think that his rough early years shaped him into the person he was and allowed him to recognize and accept good opportunities when they came to him. Ballroom had been one of those things. But even though he liked the person he was now, the boy who ran errands for the yakuza was so far from Kiyone's prima ballerina that there was no reconciling the difference.

Oh yes. He certainly had no right to be thinking of her, not in that way. Even if he wanted something to happen – and he didn't, he thought fiercely – there was just no way in hell that it could ever work. Kiyone was first and foremost his partner. He didn't care that other dancers in the studio fell for their partners – he wasn't going to. He couldn't afford to.

"Ikkaku, are you trying to drown yourself?" There was Yumichika, standing just outside the shower stall. "You've been in there for _ages_. That's something I would do, not you. It's too beautiful of a gesture for you…" There was a pause. "Are you all right?"

Of all the times for his self-absorbed best friend to be perceptive…Ikkaku turned off the shower and strode out, completely unconcerned with his nudity.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. "There _is _something wrong."

"Fuck off, Yumi," he growled, grabbing a towel.

"I most certainly will not!" was the indignant reply. "Perhaps it's not standard operating procedure for you, but I'm obliged to _help_ if you're out of sorts."

"I ain't outta sorts!" He began throwing on his clothes.

"Have you had another fight with Kiyone-chan? Ikkaku, I sent you back up there so that you could have a decent discussion on your dancing-"

"Drop it," Ikkaku snarled, tossing his duffel bag over his shoulder. He was out of the locker room like a shot.

"Well," Yumichika huffed, alone in the locker room. "That was _most_ satisfying."

* * *

The day of Shunsui and Nanao's wedding dawned clear and bright. They couldn't have chosen a better date, for the sakura trees that Shunsui loved were blooming, providing the perfect backdrop for their traditional Shinto wedding ceremony.

The reception hall filled out quickly. The Kyouraku family was nobility, and that meant the upper crust was out in droves. It was a gathering of Japan's most elite and powerful families, both old and new money. Not that Shunsui or Nanao cared, of course – this was their day, and everything else was just trimmings.

In the green room set aside for dancers from the studio, the atmosphere was almost like that of a competition. Costumes were being put on in a flurry and nerves were high as they eagerly anticipated their traditional Viennese waltz. Shunsui and Nanao would lead the dance, accompanied by eight other couples composed of 8/13 dancers.

The dance was impeccably choreographed and rehearsed because they all knew having that many couples on the dance floor was a recipe for disaster. Every step and turn had to be timed to the minute. Every man had to be on his guard at all times so that there would be no collisions and so that no one got boxed in – there had been plenty of both in rehearsal.

But the dancers of the 8/13 Dance Studio did not have the reputation of being Japan's best for nothing. A week was all they needed to get it perfect.

The men wore tails and the women were in dressed in what seemed like miles of floaty silk, each dress a different pastel color. Kiyone ran her fingers over her dress lovingly. It was her first proper ballroom costume and she was sure it would remain her favorite. The delicate shade of lilac was her favorite color. Ballroom definitely had better costumes than ballet, she thought with satisfaction.

"Look lively, everyone!" Ukitake called out, running into the room as he shrugged into his tailcoat. Unohana, Yoruichi, and Matsumoto came fast on his heels, tugging up gloves and putting in earrings. They were the only non-family members allowed at the ceremony. "The bride and groom will be here any minute!"

Sure enough, the radiant bride and groom entered a few minutes later and the room exploded with cheers and congratulations. Hasty hugs and kisses were given before the wedding planner came in and requested that everyone take their places. Shunsui and Nanao would begin alone, then couple by couple everyone would join in until all nine couples were twirling about the dance floor. The couples filed out the door and waited.

Kiyone watched avidly as Shunsui and Nanao began dancing their first dance as man and wife. Within seconds, she had tears in her eyes. From the sniffles she heard ahead of them, she wasn't the only one affected.

A handkerchief was shoved in front of her face. "Thanks," she mumbled, dabbing at her eyes carefully so as not to smudge her makeup.

"No problem." Ikkaku's voice was perfectly controlled and she barely managed to stop the frown from spreading across her face. Ever since he caught her ballet dancing two weeks ago, he suddenly became so _polite_. It was driving her absolutely insane and she had no idea why. It just seemed wrong. It was like he was keeping his distance and for some reason that annoyed her. They weren't arguing, so she had to be happy…right?

"So that's what Unohana-sensei was talking about," she said softly. The scene was so incredibly lovely. The newlyweds seemed to glow with their shared love. They never took their eyes off each other and the tender, adoring expression on Shunsui's face said it all. It was the perfect Viennese waltz.

Ikkaku watched as Ukitake and Unohana joined them, their expressions similar. "It's kinda beautiful, ain't it?" He blinked then cursed himself for letting his guard down.

Kiyone was flabbergasted, to say the least – she barely noticed as the next two couples joined the dance. Oh, but he had just handed her the perfect ammunition, she thought gleefully. Perhaps now he'd stop being so damned _weird_. "Since when does Madarame Ikkaku talk about beauty?" she teased.

He was calling himself all different kinds of idiot. Luckily, he was quick-witted. "Since I met ya," he said half-seriously. He chuckled as she stared at him, open-mouthed. "Come on, we're gonna miss our cue." His hand was warm at the small of her back as he propelled her forward and onto the dance floor.

For once, she stopped thinking. She simply gazed at her partner with a mixture of wonder and stupor that came off surprisingly well to the audience. When the dance was over, all the couples bowed, curtsied, and made their way off the dance floor. When she managed to get her brain functioning again, she said, "See, I knew it was all an act. You just make yourself seem like a tough guy so that you can look dangerous and sexy-"

Open mouth, insert foot. Where had _that _come from? she thought.

"Sexy, huh?" Ikkaku drawled. "Ya think I'm sexy?"

"No!"

"S'all right if ya do."

"Well, I don't!" She stomped off to the sound of his laughter behind her.

* * *

She sat wide and glassy-eyed through dinner, not even enjoying the fact that it was probably the most exquisite meal she'd ever had. She was sitting at a table with her sister, Shuuhei, Renji, Nemu, and Aizen Studio's Kira Izuru. Under other circumstances, she would have found the bashful and somewhat self-effacing man charming, but she could not get her mind off that _incident_.

Sexy? What was she thinking? Since when did she consider Madarame Ikkaku _sexy_? Only from the beginning, her conscience reminded her. She had to agree, albeit crossly. Oh yes, she'd been tempted by him at first – until he opened his mouth.

Whatever, her mind replied. You're still tempted, don't even try to deny it. He has one of the best bodies in the studio, you think his tattoos are hot, and every time he smiles that reckless grin you either want to smack it off or kiss it off. And he's just so deliciously _dangerous_.

Kiyone wondered what would happen if she face-planted into thegoat cheese _tortellini _in front of her. Okay, so what if I do think he's hot? she argued furiously. That doesn't mean that I'm going to jump him or anything.

But you _want _to, her mind said in a singsong voice.

"Kiyone, are you all right?" Isane said, peering into her sister's eyes. "Is your food not agreeing with you?"

The blonde started. "Oh, ah," she trailed off nervously when she noticed the whole table's attention was on her. "Yeah, you know, I don't think those oysters were such a good idea. I'll just head over to the bathroom," she finished lamely.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

'I'm fine," she said hastily, standing up and hurrying from the table. Isane frowned. Something was really wrong. Normally, her little sister would have made a crack about her acting too motherly. But she respected her space and knew she would come to her eventually.

From the next table, Ikkaku watched as his partner left in a flurry of lilac skirts and grinned inwardly. Well, wasn't that just delightful? he thought. He didn't mind seeing Kotetsu Kiyone like this, not one bit. It was fair justice to him since he couldn't get the image of her dancing out of his head. He dug into his pasta with gusto, already making plans to turn this to his advantage. The situation was much too fun for him to let it pass him by.

* * *

The hotel gardens were very lovely, Kiyone thought, having just stumbled upon a gazebo completely covered with climbing vines. She made her way up the steps and looked inside. The padded benches looked very inviting. It wasn't cowardly to stay out here. The view was very nice and she could hear the band. All in all, it was a very nice, calming place to be. She didn't need to be inside with the press of people and-

"Hidin' out?"

She shrieked and jumped a foot in the air. "Don't do that! You shouldn't skulk around scaring people like that!"

"Uh-huh." Ikkaku stepped into a shaft of moonlight, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Kiyone cursed her galloping heartbeat. He should have looked ridiculous in tails, what with his bald head, tattoos, and fighter's body. But somehow, he just looked _right_.

It was scary how right he seemed at the moment. She was used to dealing with boys, but even then, her experience was very limited. He was all man. She didn't quite know what to do with him. "So." Her voice was scratchy. "What are you doing here?" Brilliant, Kiyone.

"Yer sister sent me. Ya disappeared." That was only slightly the truth – he'd overheard Isane worrying and volunteered to get her.

He was slowly moving forward and she wasn't sure what to make of the gleam in his eyes. "Yes well, it's crowded inside. I needed some air."

"Air, huh? Seems t'me that yer avoidin' me." He was at the bottom of the steps – an almost insurmountable distance, considering their circumstances. But tonight he didn't give a damn.

"Don't hold your breath," she retorted.

"Yer scared cause I called ya beautiful." He began to climb, stopping a step below her so that they were at eye level.

"I'm not!" She would hold her ground if her life depended on it. But kami, he smelled like spices and sweat and _Ikkaku_ – the combination was making her lightheaded. His proximity was absolutely intoxicating: how could she have not noticed this?

"Know what I think?" He passed her. She relaxed slightly only to stiffen when she felt his breath whisper next to her ear. Her knees went wobbly. "I think ya want me t'kiss ya."

"What are you, stupid? Of course I want you to kiss me." Her eyes widened as she realized what she said. She really needed to do something about that motor mouth of hers. "Wait, I didn't mean it-!"

But it was too late, and she was yanked hard against him. It wasn't the kiss of a conquering warlord – she expected that and was well prepared to resist. There was no force or persuasion needed, for this was the confident kiss of a man who knew his woman – and knew that she would respond.

This was uncharted territory for Kiyone. Even a hundred _fouettés _couldn't match the feeling pulsing through her veins. She offered him all she had to give, taking what he gave her in return. He wasn't close enough – she had the feeling that even if she could somehow pull him into her it wouldn't be enough. Only dimly did she realize that he had somehow backed her against the wall of the gazebo, hitching her up so that the difference in their height didn't matter. Her legs twined about his hips to keep from falling down, her skirt tumbling in lavender waves between them.

When he broke away with a muffled curse, she barely managed to stay upright against the wall. "Ikkaku?" she asked dazedly.

Gods, he could still taste her on his lips. He hadn't meant to kiss her. He had come out with the express intent of teasing her, but somehow this happened. "I shouldn't a done that," he muttered.

"But you did." It was amazing that she could still speak after a kiss like that.

"An' it was a mistake."

Slowly, the stars cleared from her eyes. "Was it?"

He couldn't look at her. He'd tried so hard to keep everything at bay, but somehow she got under his skin even when he knew it couldn't work. "We're partners. That shouldn't happen."

"What are you talking about? Partners get together all the time."

"Is that what we did?" he demanded, somehow stung by her reply. "We 'got together?'"

"Well then what the hell did we do?" she shot back.

Ikkaku swore again, stalking over to the entrance of the gazebo. It was only a few feet but it might as well have been miles. "Hell if I know."

Angry tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Well, let me know when you do, because until then, you're going to have to find yourself a new partner." She stormed past him and out into the night. It was only when she was a good distance away that she let the tears fall.

* * *

To say that the 8/13 studio was in an uproar for the next week would have been an overstatement. If anyone expected some sort of explosion, they would have been sorely disappointed. What happened instead was that Ikkaku and Kiyone approached a baffled Unohana separately and told her politely that they were on an indefinite break. Isane and Yumichika were at a loss because the two were so quiet and withdrawn – a complete turnaround for both of them. No one knew what to do about the pair that went pale at the sight of the other and did their best to get away as quickly as possible. There was no doubt that _something _happened during the wedding, but no one knew exactly what.

Yumichika couldn't take it anymore. He'd talked it over with Isane, and they agreed this couldn't go on. They would find out what happened and they would try to set things straight. No one in the studio blinked when one day, the impeccably dressed black-haired man came sidling up to his best friend, took his ear between his fingers, and dragged him away, a cappuccino in the other hand. He endured his curses all the way up to the roof of the building.

"What the _fuck_, Yumi!" Ikkaku snarled, rubbing his ear.

"Well finally, some spirit," was the dry reply. He paused significantly. "I want an explanation. You won't be able to get away," he called as the bald man headed for the door. "I had Renji-kun lock it and he won't open it until I say so."

"Well, let me persuade you," Ikkaku said through gritted teeth, flexing his hands.

Amethyst eyes rolled heavenwards. "My, I'm so scared." He sighed. "I'm truly concerned, Ikkaku. And if you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"

Ikkaku stalked over to the edge of the roof, bracing his hands along the side. The silence stretched on for a good long time. Finally, he muttered something.

Yumichika almost spit out his coffee. "I'm sorry, I seem to have misheard. Did you just say you kissed Kotetsu Kiyone?"

Ikkaku was sure that _kiss _was too mild a term for that hot-blooded exchange against the gazebo wall, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say that. "Yeah."

If there was anything that could be said about Ayasegawa Yumichika, it was that he could take things in stride. He grinned. "Well, isn't that delightful?"

"_What?_"

"Are you telling me it isn't?"

"It ain't like that." Hadn't he tried to talk himself out of it? Ever since that night, he'd made list upon list in his head, reasons why something between them could never work and that he'd done the right thing. They just couldn't be right together, and he'd never figured himself as a mushy-feelings kind of man. He wasn't capable of it, right?

"Oh, it isn't?"

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I don't want it t'be. It ain't gonna swing."

"Well, my dear Ikkaku, I hate to shatter your hopes and dreams, but you don't always get what you want." He pursed his lips. "And you're telling me you don't want her."

"Yeah."

"Liar."

Ikkaku slammed a hand against the concrete, ignoring the pain. "Dammit, whaddya want me t'say, Yumi? That the onna drives me so crazy that I dunno if I wanna strangle her or kiss her? That kissin' her is better than fightin'? That makin' her cry made me wanna shoot myself for hurtin' her?" He cursed. "That baka onna…I hear her voice everywhere! I want it t'stop!" He glanced up to find his friend sobbing hysterically into a handkerchief. "The hell?"

"Oh, Ikkaku, you're in love! It's so beautiful! I must hug you!"

"_Boke_, get away!"

Yumichika dabbed at his eyes, unperturbed by being shoved away. "I had no idea you had such poetry, Ikkaku. I find that I respect you deeply. Now, regarding the lovely Kiyone-chan…" He trailed off. "Well honestly, if she makes you feel this way, why on earth are you moping around by yourself when you can be with her?"

"She can't-"

"Oh fiddle-dee-dee," he snorted. "You're not the only one walking around like a wounded animal, Ikkaku. Do you know…she looks the most beautiful when she's with you. Even when you're fighting. If that's not love or something like it, well, then I'm the ugliest man in the studio." He recoiled at the sheer horror of it. "And we know that's not the case."

Ikkaku absorbed his friend's words. Finally, he shook his head and grinned. There was no need for words.

"I know." He patted his friend on the back. "Now go and get the girl! Renji-kun! Unlock the door!" He sighed as his friend sprinted for the door. "Ah, isn't love wonderful?"

* * *

At the same time, Isane was cornering her little sister in the women's locker room. "Kiyone, will you talk to me, please?"

"I told you, onee-san, there's nothing wrong with me." She picked up her gym bag and headed for the door. Opening it, she found Matsumoto and Soi Fong standing outside.

"Please turn around and go back inside, Kiyone-chan!" Matsumoto said cheerfully. Soi Fong just folded her arms and scowled.

"What-"

"Kiyone, I didn't want to do this," her sister said from behind her. "But Rangiku-san and Soi Fong-san won't let you through until you talk this through with me."

The blonde gritted her teeth. If it had just been Matsumoto and her sister, she was sure that she could have fought her way out. But Soi Fong scared the crap out of her, and she didn't scare easily. She snarled wordlessly and closed the door, knowing exactly what her sister was getting at. "Fine. What do you want to know, onee-san? That Madarame Ikkaku is an idiot? I'm sure you knew that already."

"What I do know, Kiyone, is that this is not one of your normal fights." She patted the bench next to her. "Why haven't you talked to me? You know that I would do anything I can to help you."

She sighed. Her sister always knew the way to take the wind out of her sails. She had always been there to support her and guide her and now here she was, worried out of her mind, and all she asked was that she talk. So she did. She related everything – their truce, that odd moment in the studio after he caught her dancing, the lead-up to the wedding, and the incident in the gazebo. "I hate him!" she said at the end of it all.

Isane was silent. Finally, she took her sister's hand. "No, you don't. Maybe that's the problem."

"I _don't _hate him?" She was baffled. "So, what? Don't tell me I love him!"

"Maybe you do."

"But…but…that doesn't make _sense!_" She jumped to her feet and began pacing. "I've only known him…a year? And this crazy stuff only started happening a few weeks ago…onee-san, I can't stand him!"

"Darling, love rarely makes sense." She shrugged. "All right, maybe you don't love him. Not yet. But Kiyone, you must feel something, otherwise you wouldn't be hurting right now."

"I'm not hurting."

"Don't lie, my dear, you know that I can tell when you do." Isane stood up and wrapped her arms around her. "It hurt you that he pushed you away, but don't you think he has his reasons?"

"What reasons?"

"I don't know, Kiyone. I don't know his mind. Age, maybe?"

"That's stupid-"

"Perhaps for you. But you're young. Maybe he feels like you deserve better."

"That's dumb." She looked up and for the first time in a week, her mind was clear. "It's been strange, not fighting with him. I kind of…miss it. I miss…him?" She chewed on her bottom lip. "My head hurts," she said plaintively.

Isane kissed her on the forehead, chuckling fondly. "Shall I make it easier for you, Kiyone? What did it feel like when he kissed you?"

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Do you remember my last recital, when I played Odile in _Swan Lake_?"

"How could I forget? You brought me to tears that night."

"Onee-san, you cried at all of my ballet recitals." But she smiled and continued on. "I rehearsed so long and so hard for those 32 _fouettés_, and when I finally got them…" she shook her head. "That feeling I had then doesn't even begin to describe it."

"Well, there you go." Isane walked to the door and opened it. She cocked her head to the side. "Now, go get him. He's on the roof."

Kiyone dashed past the three women and into the stairwell, feeling as though her heart was going to explode out of her chest. Perhaps what she was doing was absolutely ridiculous – she barely knew the man, after all. She had no idea if anything could work between them, but she had to try. She owed that to her heart to find out, especially if he could make her feel like this.

She was rudely jolted out of her reverie when she crashed into what appeared to be a wall of brick that was moving just as fast as she was. She shrieked and nearly fell backwards before strong arms banded around her and yanked her back to the brick wall. "Watch where the hell you're going-" she barked, and realized just who she'd crashed into.

Ikkaku stared back at her, just as surprised.

"You!" she said. Her eyes narrowed. "You just better shut up and listen, because I have a lot of things to say, mister." She poked him in the chest when he opened his mouth. "I said listen! You're a brute. You're brash, loudmouthed, and crass. You say and do stupid things that make me angry. And yet somehow I don't really mind." Her eyes were golden, almost feline in their fierceness. "So if you've got any ridiculous ideas rattling around in that brain of yours that I'm too young or too good for you, you'd better forget them, because if I decide that I want you, then I'm damn well going to have you!"

She stopped to take a breath and suddenly her eyes were wary and vulnerable. "Unless you don't want me. I'm not going to dent my pride and chase after someone who-" She cut herself off, her chin going up. "Though you're a pinhead if-"

Oh yes, how could he have doubted that she was the woman for him? Ikkaku put a finger over her lips, effectively silencing her. "Ya talk too much, onna. Wanna let me talk now?" Kiyone nodded, speechless. Just one touch had her tingling all over. "So, yer just gonna take me, is that how it is?" He shrugged. "Guess I got no choice."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. "You-"

He continued on blandly, his eyes twinkling wickedly. "I mean, ya forced me into it."

She punched him. "_Abruti!_ Stop joking!"

"Ya want me t'stop jokin'? Fine." He tipped her chin up with his fingers, his eyes boring steadily into hers. "I know we fight. We shout cause that's the way we are. But I want ya t'know that even with that stuff…I'd take fightin' with ya any day, over anythin' else. I'm done resistin' ya."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, so she did a little bit of both, stepping into the circle of his arms and crying into his shirt. Finally, when she got herself together, she looked up at him – then frowned at the massive difference in height. She stepped around him and stood on the step behind him, draping her arms around his neck. "Over anything else?" She tried to sound coy, but the hiccupping destroyed it.

Ikkaku smirked. "Well. Maybe not _anythin'_ else." And he proved it by kissing her until they both were breathless. And there were no mistakes this time.

The pair suddenly grew aware of cheers and applause. Kiyone hid her face in Ikkaku's shirt again, this time in embarrassment, while Ikkaku oscillated between irritation and pride. A flight of stairs above them were Yumichika and Renji. Renji was whistling and Yumichika was crying again. "Ikkaku, I didn't know you had it in you to act so beautifully!" he bawled. A flight of stairs below them were Matsumoto, Isane, Soi Fong, and Yachiru. Isane was sobbing away just like Yumichika. Soi Fong looked unimpressed. Matsumoto was trying – unsuccessfully – to cover Yachiru's eyes.

"Baldy-chan and Twinkletoes-chan are together?" The pink-haired girl asked.

"Yes," Matsumoto said, giving up and beaming at the couple.

"Dang," she muttered. "I owe Ken-chan.

* * *

Please review! Or you have to do the rumba with Mayuri! Ick

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for the long wait! I'm currently in France, so it's taken me a while to get the story finished, beta-ed, and then revised accordingly. I hope it's worth it, and that you guys find Ikkaku as sexy as I do...I know I managed to convert poptate, my beta! Hehehe. HUGE thanks go out to my lovely friend Caitlin, who choreographed Kiyone's ballet scene, since I know next to nothing about ballet. If there are any inaccuracies, it's all my fault! Again, this was difficult, especially in the case of Ikkaku, when it came to character development. If anything, I'm really proud of how Yumi came out...apologies for his Scarlett O'Hara moment, but "fiddle-dee-dee" just seemed to fit! Oh, and please don't use the word "_abruti_" when talking to someone who speaks French - it is pretty offensive (the equivalent of jackass, I guess). I just figured that Kiyone would want to know French after learning ballet, so it stands to reason that she would know curse words...anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Next is the OC/OC installment of the SB series! I also have plans to do a short one-shot on Shunsui and Nanao's wedding, since I feel bad at having cheated all ShuNao fans out of the wedding. In my mind, it's pretty spectacular.


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